Doing The Right Thing
by deepwater1978
Summary: I'm not the right guy for her. I don't do the right thing. But I have to do the right thing by her.
1. Chapter 1

Damon Salvatore couldn't believe it. He had seen some messed up things in his day, but the scene before him took the cake.

A stream of people fled through the front doors and others jumped from the first floor windows of the large grey compound. Then again, what had he expected when his squad gassed the place?

After waiting for the fumes to clear, and most of the bodies to filter out, he ran towards the building, rain pelting his jacket. He ducked through the door and removed his gas mask taking a tentative breath to test the air around him. There was only a slight tingle in his throat. It would do. He didn't plan on hanging out in the front area where the canister had crashed through the window anyway. His goal was to seek out the back rooms and find anyone still lingering inside. And bonus points if he found the cult's leader, Marko, before his commander did. If Marko was guilty of even half the crimes they had him on, Damon wouldn't mind punching the guy square in the jaw.

Marko was a certified nutcase. He claimed to be a spiritual healer, and had about forty people swallowing his bullshit. When the FBI learned this morning of his plans to lead his followers in a suicide mission, they had moved fast. So far, it appeared they had made it in time.

Damon adjusted the strap of his rifle and treaded along the hallway. He turned the corner, the lighting dim from the lack of windows, and listened for any sounds. Dead silence. Hearing nothing to indicate a threat, he entered the room on his right.

A young woman was huddled in the corner of the bedroom. She sat slumped against the wall, knees hugged to her chest. Her breath came in quick shallow gasps.

For a long second, Damon couldn't move, couldn't think. Something about this woman captivated his attention. Eyes, the colour of brown doe, stared up at him in fear and confusion. Trembling hands hugged her legs tight to her chest. Unshed tears burned in that brilliant gaze.

Snapping out of his daze, Damon stepped closer. The woman flinched and shrank back against the wall. She was shaking uncontrollably but her eyes followed his movements. He scanned the bedroom, checking for other victims or threats, but found only several bunk beds, clothes strewn across the floor, and a crib in the corner. Once the room was secure, Damon lowered his gun.

Procedure dictated he shout his command before taking action. But his gut told him a different tactic might be required.

"What is your name?" he asked, gazing down at her petite form.

"Elena," she stammered and her voice was raspy.

He pulled in a deep lungful of air and crossed the room, his boots thudding against the tiled floor. She pressed back hard against the wall, watching him approach. He slung the rifle's strap over his shoulder, letting the weapon hang free and lifted his hands—palms out, fingers splayed—facing her. "It is okay. I'm here to help."

She watched him with wide eyes that held a flicker of curiosity. Although she remained hunkered down, she lifted her chin as he approached.

He considered helping her up, but he instinctively knew her hands would remain tightly locked in her lap.

Damon knew he had two choices: pick her up and carry her out, or win over her trust. Trust took time. Making a split second decision, he crouched down and lifted her, securing one arm behind her knees, the other around her waist. A startled gasp escaped her throat, but as soon as Elena was in his arms her body relaxed. She rested her head against his shoulder and let out a deep sigh, as if she had been carrying around some great burden and was suddenly free now that she was in his arms. She laced her fingers behind his neck and buried her face in his chest, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Momentarily stunned by her warm body wrapped around his, it took Damon a moment to get his feet moving.

He carried her through the building, catching surprised glances from the other agents as he held her tightly to his chest, crossing through the emptying rooms. She sank into him, into his protection and that measure of complete trust and surrender twisted something inside Damon, invoking a feeling he had never encountered until now.

"Found a girlfriend back there, Salvatore?" one of the agents said, followed by a wave of laughter.

Normally, Damon would snap back a retort, but he couldn't focus on much with her locked in his embrace. The fragrant waves of dark hair spilling over her shoulders, the soft curves of her body moulding to his hard chest was more than a little distracting.

When they entered the front room, Elena finally opened her mouth. "You can set me down now." Her breath was warm against his neck and it sent a tingling rush down his spine.

Damon lowered her feet to the floor, suddenly finding himself reluctant to let her go. She looked at him and blinked twice, her mouth opening to draw in a shuddering breath. He felt just as speechless. Emotions he had thought long dead stirred within him.

Elena turned and strode towards the few people still left in the building—a small group of children lined up against the far wall, looking bewildered.

It was obvious that a group of male agents were clueless as to what to do with the littlest victims. But at least they had enough sense to bring them inside out of the rain while they waited for the vans to arrive.

Elena kneeled before the children and spoke to them in a hushed voice. Whatever she said had the power to calm them. Several of the older kids swiped at tears and fixed on brave faces. The littlest one, a toddler with blonde, curls crawled onto her lap.

At first Damon had been solely focused on the mission—to capture Marko—but now he wondered what would happen to the women and children. Well, mainly the young woman, Elena.

When the vans arrived, he watched her helped the children fashion capes out of discarded blankets to shield them from the rain. Then she paraded them outside to the waiting vehicles.

The unfamiliar sting of worry pierced his chest. This was the only home they knew, and it was now the centre of an FBI investigation. They had been literally cast out into the cold. Damon shook the thought away. Damn. He must be going soft. This was the same kind of thing he had counselled junior agents on—never get emotionally involved in a case. It was a disaster waiting to happen. But watching Elena walked away, her shapely backside and legs encased in a pair of jeans, damp hair hanging down her back, he knew better than to pretend he wasn't affected.

Damn it.

As Damon stood in the doorway, the cold air snatched his breath away instantly, forcing him to pull the edges of his jacket tighter. He couldn't help thinking about her lush, soft curves and how she had felt in his arms. Wanting her was a powerful, primal need, an instinctive response, and one he hadn't experienced in a long time. The difference was he would never act on it.

Hell, he was willing to bet he would never even see her again. And that was for the best.

* * *

 **Hello everyone, I hope my readers have been keeping themselves well.**

 **This is my new Delena story. Hopefully you guys/gals will enjoy reading it. I promise I will try my best to update regularly but work has been pretty busy lately unfortunately...**

 **Really appreciate all the support and kind reviews I have received so far. Thank you so much!**


	2. Chapter 2

Damon had hell in the last few nights.

Well, maybe not hell.

He didn't count on the woman appearing in his dreams. For the past several nights, she had played a starring role. Although each dream contained a different scenario, they were all a variation of the actual take-down. Only in his dreams he had spoken to her, made her laugh. He had calmed her worries, and eased that little line that creased her forehead. Then he had leaned in close to inhale the scent of her hair, carried her to his SUV, and tucked her safely inside. He woke each morning cursing himself out. He didn't get to keep her. But damn if his subconscious knew it, uncooperative prick that it was.

Now in the office, sitting at his desk with the sunlight streaming through the cheap blinds, dotting his computer screen with flecks of light, Damon scrubbed a hand across his jaw. The case that had consumed much of his time over the past month had come to an unsatisfying conclusion.

Marko had been found dead in an out-building adjacent to the compound, of an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound. From the Bureau's standpoint, the case was all but closed. But Damon had spent the last several days milling through the mountains of files they had accumulated on the group, making sure everything was done correctly He kept finding himself stuck on details that might somehow relate to Elena. Then he gave up trying to be sly, and read every single note they had on her. She was nineteen and had joined the group with her mother when she was just seven years old. Her mother, believed to have been one of Marko's lovers, passed away when Elena was fifteen. Elena had been living with the group in the compound just outside of Mystic Falls ever since.

Damon knew that all of the children, fourteen of them under the age of eighteen, had been taken into Child Protective Services. He had no idea what would become of those of legal age. He supposed once they were brought in for questioning and their statements taken, many of them would be free to go.

Gulping weak coffee from a paper cup, it took him a moment to realize his boss was standing in front of his desk.

"You look terrible, Salvatore."

Damon didn't bother explaining he hadn't been sleeping well, preferring not to get in a conversation about exactly why that was the mysterious girl he had rescued from the compound still clouding his thoughts even in his sleep—knowing that excuse wouldn't go over well with Alaric.

Damon rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "Thanks," he muttered.

"You need a break, Damon. You have been working eighty-hour weeks nonstop the past few months. Now that this case is over, I'm not assigning you to another until you take some time off."

Damon raised his brows. "What are you talking about, a leave of absence?" He had heard of other guys messing up and getting forced into a leave, if only to make an example of them. But as far as he knew, he hadn't messed anything up, at least not lately, and he was in line for a promotion at his next review cycle.

"No, like a vacation." Alaric's stern gaze met Damon's eyes. "You have heard of a vacation, right?"

Damon almost laughed, and would have, had he not been pissed at where this conversation was headed. It was the exact same conversation he'd had with his meddling younger brother, Stefan, just a few days before.

When Stefan had stopped by last weekend and seen the dark circles under his eyes, his brother had challenged him on when he had last taken time off. The truth was Damon had never purposefully taken time off work. He wouldn't know what to do with himself. The one and only time he had taken some personal days was the standard bereavement leave when his parents were killed six years ago.

Alaric was still staring down at him expectantly. "I checked with HR, and they told me you have never taken a single vacation day in six years with the Bureau."

Damon didn't like the idea of vacation. And for good reason. He would be bored as hell in two hours. "And what exactly do you expect me to do?"

"How the hell should I know? Do whatever it is people do when they have time off work."

"Thanks, but I'm actually good. Just give me another case, Alaric."

"This is non-negotiable."

Damon wasn't averse to taking on Alaric, but he wasn't stupid enough to argue with him when that vein in his forehead was throbbing.

Damon stood, knowing it would be pointless to press the issue, and scooped up the files from his desk. He would just work from home. Alaric cracked a sideways grin and pulled the files from his hands.

"No. No bringing work home. Get a massage, get away from here, go somewhere; I don't care what you do, as long as you take a break. Don't come back until Monday. Next Monday," Alaric clarified.

What? A week off of work with nothing to do?

Damon would go insane.

Unless…

No, he knew he shouldn't check up on Elena, but once the idea had planted itself firmly in his mind, he knew it would be damn near impossible to shake.

x x x

Damon had spent the first two days of his vacation much like he spent every other weekend: catching up on sleep, hitting the gym, grabbing some takeout and parking it on the couch with a beer and flipping aimlessly through the TV channels.

But by the time Monday morning rolled around, he knew he was in over his head. There was no way he would survive another week without working. He was already bored out of his mind, and it was day one of his Bureau-enforced vacation.

Damn Alaric.

Thoughts of Elena continued to occupy his mind, and Damon found himself wondering where she was and if she was doing okay. After his third cup of coffee, he was jittery and pacing. Damn, he would be crawling the walls of his condo by noon if he didn't get out and do something.

Damon made a snap decision, knowing he wouldn't be able to let the thoughts of Elena go. Not until he knew she was okay. It was simple curiosity, nothing more. Plus, it would give him something to do to occupy his time. A win all round. He would do a simple stakeout, no big deal. After a quick phone call to another agent that morning, he had a good idea where they had taken her.

The safe house.

She was taken to the only nearby facility with an opening—a transitional housing development on the shady side of town. Something about it didn't sit right with him. She was too innocent and good-looking to be somewhere like that.

He would stakeout the house, assuming she was still there. Since the file hadn't mentioned any other family, he was betting she was. Once he saw her with his own eyes, and confirmed she was safe and doing well, he would let it go.

Yes, this sounded like a good plan, Damon said to himself.

* * *

 **Thank you so much for the kind reviews and support. I'm so touched to know my readers are still enjoying my writing. I will try my best to keep on writing DE fan fiction. Hope you guys/gals will enjoy reading this chapter.**


	3. Chapter 3

Fall was Elena Gilbert's favourite time of year. The brutal heat of Mystic Fall's summer had dissipated and left the air around her pleasantly warm, and more comfortable than stifling. She was taking her third walk of the day. With nothing to do other than sit and worry over the kids, she preferred to be outside, moving, rather than sitting in the grungy halfway house.

She rounded the corner of the block she had grown familiar with over the past several days, surprised she hadn't worn a path into the sidewalk by now. There was a small park across the street. She considered stopping to watch the children playing, but kept going, knowing it would only dredge up memories that would make her cry.

Elena couldn't quite believe things had ended the way they did. She felt conflicted being away from the compound, empty in a weird way. It was all she knew, but she had dreamed of leaving the overly strict compound for the last few years. She had become disillusioned with their whole way of life after her mother passed away four years ago. But there were certain things, and people, she would miss. She already missed the bustle of activity, always having someone to talk to. She thought of Matt, the only other person her age, and wondered where he was.

When the sun began to sink lower in the sky, she resigned herself to spending another night at the house. She had come to despise it for no other reason than how alone she felt there. She turned right at the corner, surprised that she didn't recognize her surroundings. She had been so lost in thought, and over-confident in her ability to navigate, that she hadn't paid attention to where she had wandered. She turned in a circle, searching out a landmark or street sign she would recognize; but unfortunately it did little good. She was lost.

Calm down, she told herself.

She took a deep breath and willed herself to stay calm. But she couldn't. She had no one to call and didn't even know the address of the house. She was completely and utterly alone. After growing up in a household with a dozen different women mothering her, the realization was a stark one. She had never been on her own. And she was already failing at it.

Elena wiped away the tears that had begun to escape her eyes. What would she do if couldn't find the house again? The street had started with an L, hadn't it? She supposed she could go into a nearby shop and ask if they knew of a halfway house close by. She would probably sound like a crazy person, but what other options did she have? She pulled in a deep breath, regaining some composure, and looked through the window of a convenience store. The guy at the counter met her eyes, and then stared straight at her breasts.

Nope. Not going in there. Gaze cast down, she kept walking.

With the thud of her shoes against the sidewalk and the pounding rhythm of her heart guiding her, Elena continued on. The purr of a car engine lingered behind her. Not passing.

Damn.

This wasn't a great part of town to be alone in. What had she been thinking? So she quickened her stride, but the car kept pace.

A large black SUV stopped alongside her. The dark tinted window lowered. A rush of panic washed over her, and tears sprang to her eyes.

"Elena?"

The rough male voice knew her name. Elena stumbled to a halt and dared a glance in his direction. She was met with the concerned gaze of the FBI agent who had rescued her after the compound was raided. She ventured a step closer to his SUV. She didn't know his name, or what he intended, but something in his gaze gripped the very depths of her, and she knew instinctively that she could trust him. At least she hoped she could. He hadn't hurt her that night. His touch had been strong, but gentle. Summoning, her courage, she turned to face him.  
x x x  
Damon couldn't believe his luck.

He had quite literally spotted Elena on the way to the safe house.

Her face was streaked with tears and her eyes wild. She looked scared.

What was wrong? Had someone done something to her? The thought drove him nuts.

"Elena?" he repeated.

Without waiting for her to respond, Damon slammed his gearshift into park and hopped out, crossing the front of the SUV to stand before her.

He lifted her chin, inspecting her face and neck for marks, and gripped her upper arms to turn her in a circle, looking her over completely. She appeared unharmed, so he didn't understand why she was crying. "What happened?"

Elena swallowed and looked down at the sidewalk between their feet.

"Hey." He brushed her hand with his. "You remember me, right?"

She met his eyes and gave him a hesitant nod. "What is your name?" she asked, a nervous hitch in her voice.

"Damon Salvatore." He offered her his hand, and she slipped her delicate fingers into his palm.

"Agent Salvatore," she repeated in barely a whisper.

"You can call me Damon. Or Salvatore. You know, whatever…"

She grinned, more with her eyes than her mouth. His babbling had apparently scored some points.

"Now tell me what is wrong," he pushed. He didn't mean for it to come out as a command, but he needed to know what had happened to her, manners aside.

"I went for a walk and got lost," she said simply.

Damon nearly sagged in relief. That, he could fix. God, if something had happened to her, he didn't think he could have handled it. Not with the worry that had been churning in his gut the last several days. "Come on, I can drive you back." He turned for the driver's side again, but Elena remained rooted to the sidewalk. He returned to the spot where she stood and spoke to her in hushed tones. "You can trust me, okay?"

Her eyes flashed to his. He had forgotten how beautiful they were. She squinted and blinked several times, as if she was deciding. It was cute. Without another word, Elena opened the passenger door and climbed inside.

Damon's skin tingled, hyper-aware of just how close she was. She wore a pair of baggy jeans, torn at one knee and a long sleeved thermal tee, but the ill-fitting attire did nothing to temper the desire he felt. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, his hands itching to fold her body against his own.

Damn, damn, damn.

His libido was out of control when it came to this girl. Maybe he really did need a vacation. Somewhere with sand and lots of women in bikinis. Somewhere away from Elena.

Neither spoke during the short ride back to the halfway house. Damon stopped in front of the two-story, pale grey house flaking in paint. Both his and Elena's attention was captured by a group of guys sitting on the wide front porch, arguing loudly.

Elena fiddled nervously with the door handle, but made no move to exit the car.

"Listen, I don't have to take you back right away…we could grab a cup of coffee."

Relief washed over her face. "Yes."

There was no way he was sending her back inside that house just yet.

Over steaming mugs of coffee at a nearby café, Damon attempted small talk, but mostly they sat in comfortable silence. Elena seemed distracted and sombre. He wondered if she was counting down the minutes until she had to go back to that house, and dreading it just as much as he was. "Do you have any family you can stay with?" he asked finally.

A deep searing gaze communicated her need. Damon's worst assumptions were proven correct — she was all alone.

She swallowed and shook her head. "My mother passed away when I was fifteen, and I never met my father. I suppose I could find one of the women from Marko's group, but I don't know…"

"Are you hungry? Have you eaten? We could get you something." Damon couldn't stop himself from peppering her with questions.

She kept her gaze cast down and shook her head. "I'm fine." Elena sat quietly in her seat, her thin fingers wound tightly around the coffee mug.

Damon wished there was something more he could do for her. He wasn't sure what to say, how to help, so he sat silently across from her sipping his coffee.

By the time they reached the house again, darkness had blanketed the sky. Damon shifted into park, turning off the engine. "I will walk you inside."

The house itself was large, but poorly maintained. The furniture was old and unmatched, the beige carpet stained and threadbare. Damon didn't see much of the first floor, beyond a dingy living room, before she led him upstairs. There were several closed doors along the long hallway.

Elena stopped at the second door on the right. The key fumbled between her fingers, clanking against the wooden door. After three failed attempts to unlock it, Damon removed it from her trembling hand, and deftly opened the door.

The first thing he noticed was the odour—the room smelled like wet gym socks. Elena flipped on the light and took several steps into the room. A single narrow cot on the floor and a chair in the corner containing stray articles of clothing were the only furnishings.

This was terrible.

He couldn't just leave her here, could he?

Elena stepped in closer, wrapping her arms around his waist and tucking her head under his chin. "Thank you," she whispered.

Her eagerness at physical contact surprised him, but he only hesitated a moment before wrapping his arms around her. Damon patted her back, hating that his attempts at soothing her were clumsy and awkward. He had never been good at this kind of thing: emotions, touchy-feely crap.

Maybe his presence would be enough to calm her. And although he didn't know how to show it, he felt protective. He wouldn't let anyone hurt her. If anyone so much as looked at her the wrong way, Damon would knock them on their ass. He held her for several long minutes until the beating of her heart slowed to normal, and she backed out of his arms.

Their eyes flashed to one another's at the sounds of an argument going on in the next room. Angry voices carried through the thin walls. Another argument. Damon and Elena exchanged glances.

"Are you sure you will be okay?"

She nodded, looking solemn.

"Here's my card." He fished the card from his wallet and placed it in her trembling hand. "Call me if you need anything."

Elena remained silent, glancing at the card, running her thumb along the raised lettering.

"Lock your door when I leave, okay?"

She nodded tightly, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth, as if there was something more she wanted to say, but stopped herself.

Damon left reluctantly He knew it was getting late, and as much as it pained him to leave her, he couldn't put it off any longer. He was sure he was crossing some sort of professional line even being here. He waited outside the door until he heard the lock slide into place, the sound not nearly as reassuring as he would have hoped.

Once he was outside, Damon took a deep breath and scrubbed his hands across his face. The cooling blast of autumn air filled his lungs, but did nothing to return him to his senses. He climbed inside his truck and gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white, trying to will himself to start the engine and drive away from her.

x x x

The lock on her door did little to calm Elena's nerves. The deep, raspy voices of her male neighbours sent shivers down her spine. She huddled in closer to the thin, scratchy blanket.

The unfamiliar sounds and smells of the house left her on edge and shaking. The brief interlude with Damon had helped, but now that she was back in the bleak reality of the tiny room again, an impending panic attack throbbed in her chest.

Growing up the way she had, listening to Marko's crazy rants about sex being dirty and diseased, and men of the world being fuelled by only their lust, made her hyper-aware of the sounds in the rooms next to her. Their loud voices, crude glances, and grubby hands. Marko constantly drilled into her that men would only want her for one thing.

Sex.  
Men only wanted sex from her.

Realization struck. She was alone. Totally and completely alone. Panic crept in to the edges of her brain, but she fought it, holding the darkness at bay. Just barely.

Think Elena. If I could go on after losing my mother, I could survive this, too. Didn't have much choice.

Her muscles trembled with the effort of lying still against the hard cot. Elena curled into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest, hoping it would sooth her. A loud whack against the wall made her jump. She sat up in bed as the pain in her chest built. She drew a slow shaky breath and said a silent prayer. She tried not to break down again, but before she knew it, hot tears were freely streaming down her cheeks and she was wishing that Damon hadn't left. The only times she had felt safe during the past week of this ordeal was when he was near.

She grabbed his card from the window sill and clutched it, crushing it to her heart. She wished she was stronger, that she didn't break down so easily. But after another loud thump against the wall, she let out a whimper and clamoured under the blankets. She glanced at the door knob, the deadbolt still vertical, needing reassurance that the door was still locked.

She didn't want to leave the safety of her bedroom—and wouldn't have—had it not been for her insistent bladder urging her on. There were two bathrooms on the second floor, one was for women, the other for men. She had come to learn over the past few days, tenants used whichever was closest, and since she had the bad fortune of being surrounded on both sides by male tenants, she knew the so-called ladies room was filthy and reeked of urine. The other bathroom was probably no better.

Still clutching Damon's card, Elena cracked open the door and peeked both ways before tiptoeing towards the bathroom.

She made sure the toilet seat was clean before she relieved herself. As she stood washing her hands in the sink, she startled at the pale haunted-looking girl watching her from the mirror before realizing it was her own reflection.

The bulb above her flickered then died. Darkness made her head swim. She sucked in a deep breath and held it as her hands fumbled blindly in front of her, searching out the door. She had hated the dark. Always had. Her hands still flailing in front of her, she begged herself not to panic.

Elena swayed on her feet, blinking wildly against the darkness. Before she knew what was happening, she crashed against the wall, and felt a sharp blow ache through the back of her skull as she collapsed to the ground.

* * *

 **Thank you so much for the support and kind reviews. I'm sorry for the delay in updating this story as work has been really busy at this stage. I'm trying hard to write as fast as I can...  
**

 **Anyway, I hope you will enjoy this chapter as much as I do:)**


	4. Chapter 4

Damon pulled into his underground parking garage just as the storm lit up the sky. An angry crack of lightning pierced the night, followed by a low rumble of thunder. It had been steadily raining his entire drive home, but the storm seemed to double its force within a matter of seconds, sheets of water pouring from the sky.

He was manoeuvring into his assigned parking space when the call came in. His phone had been eerily silent all weekend, not even Stefan had been in touch. And at this late hour on Sunday, he didn't know who it could be. Fishing the phone from his centre console, he noted the Mystic Falls area code, but didn't recognize the number.

He couldn't understand her at first, her voice was high with tension, and barely above a whisper, but he soon realized it was Elena. And she was asking him to come back. He pulled a U-turn and gunned the engine before her words even registered.

Keeping her on the line as he drove, he wanted to bombard her with questions, to find out if something had happened, but he resisted. Even as all that flashed through his mind, he had found himself calming her, saying he would be right there, and flooring the gas pedal to get back to her. After ending the call, he slammed a fist against the dash. Damn, he shouldn't have left her at that place. But what choice did he have?

He thumbed the steering wheel, waiting for the light to change. He had to get her out of that house; probably check her into a hotel for the night. That would be the right thing to do, yet he knew with absolute certainty what he really wanted to do. He wanted to bring her home with him, where he could have her under the same roof and ensure she was safe.

When Damon arrived, he pressed the buzzer at the front door for the after-hours entrance. He was greeted by an older man, the night guard, he presumed.

"Where is Elena?" He stormed past the man, following the sounds of soft sobs toward the back of the house. Entering an office, he found an older woman seated behind a desk, and Elena crumpled in a ball on the chair across from her.

"Elena," his voice rasped.

She looked up and Damon nearly staggered a step back. Christ. It looked like someone had used her face as a punching bag. Her swollen and busted lip was encrusted with blood and her left eye was already darkening with a bruise. When she met his eyes she let out a soft sigh, seemingly comforted by his presence.

"Shh. I'm here." He weaved his fingers under her hair to cradle the back of her neck. Then he turned his attention to the woman behind the desk. "What the hell happened here?"

"Have a seat, Mr.….?"

"Damon Salvatore." He took the chair next to Elena.

She crawled into his lap, burying her face in his neck as little sobs racked her chest. His arms, working of their own accord, wound themselves around Elena and shifted her to a more comfortable position on his lap.

Once Elena was settled, his training kicked in and he began firing questions at the facility coordinator. She explained they had briefly lost power in the storm, and when they went upstairs to check and make sure everyone was secure, they found Elena unconscious on the bathroom floor, where she had apparently fainted and smacked her head on the porcelain sink on her way down. His fingers automatically threaded into her hair, smoothing the bump he found on the back of her head.

The coordinator seemed unconcerned, like she had dealt with these situations too many times. But he hadn't, and neither had Elena. Vacant eyes stared at the wall across from him. He was worried that shock was beginning to set in. He soothed a hand up and down her back, not quite sure what to do to comfort her.

The woman behind the desk looked over the top of her glasses, mouth twisted into a disapproving frown. Damon could tell the woman was wondering exactly what kind of relationship he shared with Elena.

His tone and questions were professional, yet Elena's body currently wrapped around his said it was something else entirely. He chose not to identify himself as an agent, and let the woman think what she wanted.

Once in situated in his lap, Elena's breathing returned to normal, and the steady thump of her heartbeat against his chest told him she was recovering. She was alright. Thank God. He didn't understand why his presence calmed her – not like he had a lot to offer – but he wasn't about to question it. Not when she was so fragile.

The woman held up a hand. "Listen, I know this isn't a five-star hotel, but if she wants to stay here, she can. If she wants to leave, fine. It is up to her."

Elena lifted her head from his chest and met Damon's eyes. "Can you take me away from here?"

She couldn't understand what she was asking for. Of course Damon wanted to take her far away from this place, from the first time he had laid eyes on the rundown house. But protocol and not crossing professional boundaries stirred in the back of his head. He resisted the urge to smooth the tangled strands of hair from her face, but kept his arms locked around her middle. Elena's bloodied lip, swollen face, and the exhaustion he could read on her features told him now might not be the time to argue. "Okay. We can go."

Tomorrow they would figure everything out.

He lifted Elena from the chair and held her like he had at the compound. And just as strong as before, the need to protect her flared up inside of him.

Carrying her out into the night, Damon opened the passenger door and helped her inside. He reached across her to buckle her seat belt. When his hands brushed her ribs, she startled, sucking in a shaky breath. He should probably check her over for injuries, assuming that she had likely sustained some bumps and bruises, but his first priority was getting her out of here.

She was silent on the drive to his condo, not even asking where they were going. She implicitly trusted him. The feeling was heady.

He kept the radio low, he left Elena to her thoughts, looking out the window as he drove. He snuck glances her way, wondering what she could possibly be thinking about. The awkward silence dug into his brain like a dripping faucet.

"Does your head hurt? How about your ribs?" he asked.

Elena ran her fingers through her matted hair, checking the bump. "I think it is okay now."

At least she had stopped crying. Nothing made him panic more than a woman crying.

When he parked in his assigned parking space and turned off the engine, a hushed silence fell over them in the confined space. His heart rate ramped up in sudden awareness of her. The light, feminine scent that clung to her skin, her petite frame, and the overwhelming desire to protect her— he couldn't deny the possessive ache that raced through his system.

"Why did you pass out, Elena?"

She swallowed heavily. "That place scared me. There were too many people…too many strange men…"

Damon nodded. It wasn't lost on him that he was a strange man to her, yet here she was alone with him too. "This is where I live," he said finally.

Her eyes widened. "You brought me home with you?"

"Is that okay?"

She studied him, her expression weary and unsure and squirmed in her seat.

"I'm sorry; I didn't know where else to take you. Come inside, and if you decide not to stay, I will take you anywhere you want to go."

Seemingly satisfied, she climbed from the car.

* * *

 **Aren't you all glad that Elena wasn't assaulted? So, what's going to happen to her? Will she live with Damon?  
**

 **Thank you so much for the support and kind reviews. I'm glad my readers are still enjoying my stories:)I'm kind of worried that I may be a bit rusty in my writing, LOL! Sorry for the delay in updating the chapters - I will try my best!  
**


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